The man looks down at you, eyes half-lidded in a bored expression. He puffs on the thick cigar in his mouth, blowing out a cloud of smoke. The gold hook that takes the place of his left hand glints dangerously from under his furred coat. A long stitched scar stretches across his face, running over the bridge of his nose. When he finally speaks, his voices comes out as a deep rumble that commands attention "Why are you here?"